


You Take My Breath Away

by Sparcina



Series: Iron Webs to Covet [15]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), College Student Peter Parker, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time Together, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kink Exploration, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: The kid was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Iron Webs to Covet [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/779883
Comments: 22
Kudos: 254
Collections: Yes Fest 2020





	You Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoxicatelou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/gifts).



> Redated for authors reveal (this fic was part of an exchange).
> 
> Beta'd by SK. Thank you so much, sweetie :)
> 
> Dear Lou, I was so glad I got to write for you! Your list of ideas and likes (breathplay ( _especially your comment on it :P_ ), manhandling, multiple orgasms, and praise kink, to name a few) was a true source of inspiration.

The kid was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. Case in point: earlier today, he’d deliberately brushed Tony’s wrist as he’d handed him his mug of perfectly brewed, extra strong coffee. The fact that Tony accepted to be handed things by Peter spoke volumes, but this exception to his unbreakable rule wasn’t what made Tony lie wide awake at night, mentally sorting through possible adjustments to his time travel equations as though there was a bloody test coming up.

His… fixation started when he’d first watched the video of the lithe figure swinging from building to building in a onesie ( _first_ being the operative word here, because let’s be honest, Tony had watched that video hundreds of times, thank you Friday for keeping count). Tony didn’t know Spiderman’s name then, only that they moved like a dancer, and handled criminals like insects in startling displays of superhuman strength. Four years ago, Tony had seen untapped potential, a recruit he could snatch right from under Fury’s nose. When he’d found out that Spiderman was called Peter Parker, an _orphaned_ boy, he’d even fancied himself in the role of a surrogate father. He’d given it a try, too, for a little while, intent to be dear old dad’s exact opposite, but years passed, the kid grew into a young man, and Tony… Tony got blackout drunk the night he admitted to himself that no, he didn’t consider Peter like a son at all.

He didn’t wish to deny the attraction. Fuck, he’d tried to fight it. Avoiding the kid hadn’t helped. Drinking only got him so far. Almost dying (twice) hadn’t accomplished much either, especially the last time, when Peter had shouted at him and gripped him so hard Tony had impressive bruises to treasure for a couple days afterwards.

(Of course, Peter had also hugged him fiercely, and apologized while he cried, holding on to him like Tony was the most important person in the world.)

Tony didn’t want to stay away, so he didn’t. He kept tinkering with the kid in their lab, flew over to visit him weekly (or biweekly when he was particularly weak) at MIT, and half-convinced himself that one day, the kid would find someone he loved and spend time with them instead. Meanwhile, he’d keep his fucking mouth shut and ignore his own desires. Because Tony was many things, and a masochist was one of them.

*

The kid’s desires proved harder to ignore than his own. Tony hardly needed to hack into the kid’s phone to know the details (although he’d been tempted exactly once, which had led to the most uncomfortable conversation he’d ever had with Friday). They just had to be in the same room together. Scratch that: Tony merely had to be within hearing distance of the kid.

For one, Peter liked to be praised.

Tony had never been shy with his compliments, and he didn’t stop giving Peter his due share even after he’d figured out that not only Peter enjoyed the praise for reasons beyond the boost to his ego, but reacted the strongest to _Tony_ praising him. How to Tease Yourself to Death: A Book Written by Tony ‘Blue-Balls’ Stark.

_You’re so brilliant, kid._

_You’ve got such a good heart, Petey._

_Look at you, so dashing in that suit._

At nineteen, Peter wasn’t blushing quite so fiercely or so quickly as he used to, but it still happened often enough. Tony shouldn’t pay attention to it, but he couldn’t help himself. The kid (Tony really should stop calling him that) was always pretty, but when he looked at him with his cheeks dusted pink and his lips parted on a sharp exhale, with dark eyes full of yearning, like Tony was the flame and Peter the helpless moth drawn to him…

Tony was only human.

*

Okay, so Tony might be running out of excuses. There were only so many meetings he could create out of thin air before Pepper grew suspicious of his willingness to work, and Rhodey wasn’t there anymore to act as a buffer.

“Fine,” he said with mock aggravation. He wasn’t annoyed at Peter–just at himself, like usual. “I can squeeze a little sparring session in my schedule.”

The kid’s face lit up immediately, and Tony managed to feel guilty and elated in the same breath. It wasn’t easy on his old heart. Before he could do something stupid like kiss that gorgeous grin, he gestured at himself, hinting at a change of clothes, and headed for the exit (read: flew).

“You can’t work all the time, and besides, you’re wearing the suit,” Peter called out after him with such mirth Tony smiled despite the knot in his belly. “You’re going to kick my ass.”

Tony stopped near the door, and had to resist the urge to bang his head on the reinforced metal to knock some sense into himself. _Focus_. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit, kid,” he said in a half-whisper, confident that Peter would hear him from across the gym.

He took as much time as he dared to get changed, but just like excuses, the fourth dimension caught up with him eventually. He padded to the sink and splashed cold water onto his face, mind spinning despite his best efforts to stop his thoughts from wandering. He dug his nails in the scarred skin around the nanoparticle housing unit. They both knew that even with this amount of tech boosting his strength, he wasn’t going to kick Peter’s ass so easily.

The things he wanted to do to that ass…

What was he thinking, putting the kid in form-fitting suits that would be considered sensual in any other fabric?

He derailed that train of thought before it could reach Main Station: Bedroom. He spent way too much time picturing the kid in his bed as it was, thank you very much.

When he entered the gym clad in his favorite undersuit, he was thankfully sans erection, and determined to give the kid the sparring session he’d been asking for weeks. He smiled, because that was one habit Howard had drilled into him from day one–‘Always smile like you’ve already won’–and came to stand a hundred feet away from the kid, who was already poised to fight. The distance helped keep his mind on track.

 _Such a shame, that you refuse to take what is on offer_ , the voice of temptation purred.

Tony activated the suit with one firm tap to the chest and took off.

*

Peter had never thought it would be quite so hard to get Tony’s attention.

To be fair, he technically already had Tony’s attention. More of it than several of the Avengers put together, and he knew to treasure the privilege. He was aware Tony liked him, even missed him, now that he attended MIT several hundred kilometers away from the compound. Like that boy said to the girl he loved on that Germany sci-fi show: We fit perfectly together.

Peter wasn’t blind. He may not have Tony’s experience, but he’d slept with a few people of several genders. He hadn’t dated, but he’d learned to flirt, and he could recognize the signs. Not that Tony flirted with him. But Tony made no secret of how much he enjoyed the time they spent together, and sometimes, Peter thought it could be more, if only one of them toed that line. Perhaps Tony wouldn’t take that step, because of the age difference and the power imbalance?

Perhaps he waited for Peter?

So, Peter tried. He hugged Tony a little longer. Indulged in touches that weren’t necessary, or strictly friendly. He sat closer to him during movie night, and insisted on sparring more. They spent so much time together, even now. For fuck’s sake, Tony sometimes visited twice during one week, and if that wasn’t a sign, the fact that Tony refused to be handed things _except_ by Peter was telling.

For a while, Peter had hope.

As Tony exploded into motion in the training gym, his strong body well-defined by the nano suit of his own creation, Peter still had hope, but he was also starting to think that maybe he should learn to treasure Tony’s friendship instead of risking it.

He tried to focus on the fight, to remember Natasha’s clever techniques and Deadpool’s out-of-the-box tips, but he was distracted, and angry at himself because of it. That kind of inner turmoil wasn’t helping him stand his ground. He couldn’t keep up, not today. Tony was winning.

Peter didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind until he ended up on his back, Tony straddling him with one hand at his throat.

_Oh._

*

_Shit._

Tony looked down at the kid’s face. It had turned a delicious shade of red and there was no question as to why. If Tony had been wearing an older, bulkier suit, he might have been oblivious to the situation, but with how thin both their suits were, he couldn’t feign ignorance.

At least, that was what he told himself.

“Hey, so…” He cleared his throat, unsure where to go from there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but he certainly was now.

“T-Tony.”

The kid sounded… half-hopeful, half-apologetic. Half-needy, too. It didn’t make sense, not mathematically, but with Peter’s hard cock digging into his own crotch and the kid tilting his head back, revealing, perhaps unconsciously, that he liked to be pinned down and would like it even more if Tony cut his air supply, it was very hard to think, let alone remember why he should extract himself from this situation. 

_Fuck. Fuck!_

He didn’t know what was showing on his face, but it caused Peter’s eyes to widen, and not in the fun way.

“I’m- Sorry, I…”

Tony didn’t think it was possible for the kid to become even more flustered, but he did, and Tony, half-succumbing to a desire he’d ignored for years, leaned in closer, just short of rubbing his interested cock against the kid’s raging erection.

“Apologies not accepted.”

“What?”

The kid looked devastated, and Tony, using what little blood had been rerouted to his brain, promptly cleared up the misunderstanding. 

“What I mean is, you have nothing to apologize for. You really, really don’t.”

“I don’t?”

Tony was pretty sure he was going to regret this, but he couldn’t be bothered with consequences right now. Peter looked so vulnerable, yet so fierce. He’d flirted with him for years, and Tony had done a saint’s job keeping his hands to himself. God knew the kid’s confidence must be in tatters right now.

“Petey.” He wondered if there was a level lower than Hell, where people like him ended up when they died. A world of madness and never-ending agony for men without scruples who corrupted the one human being who should be considered an angel, for assholes like him, who coveted and claimed someone they didn’t deserve.

Looking down at Peter’s hopeful expression, Tony found that he didn’t care if Cthulhu itself kept him as a plaything for the rest of eternity, as long as he got the rest of his life (or as much as Peter wished) with this wonderful young man at his side.

“You’re not subtle,” he heard himself saying, and could hear Pepper’s voice at the back of his head calling him an idiot. He winced at the hurt look on Peter’s face and wished that for once in his life, he could get things right on the first try. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve hurt you, even though… Damn it.” He released Peter’s throat to cup his cheek instead, cradling it like it was porcelain. “I’ve- I didn’t want you to think you didn’t have a choice?”

For what felt like an eternity, Peter just stared at him, eyes lit up with a thousand questions and hypothesis. That contemplative, calculating look was one of Tony’s favorites on him (among a thousand others). “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes, Petey. I am.”

Silence fell, and Peter relaxed fully beneath him. Tony smiled, genuinely smiled. For only the second time in his life (the first one being when he’d brought Peter back to life) Tony felt like he’d won in a way that truly mattered. “Can I kiss you now? Or we could finish sparring first, and order your favorite tacos from that Mexican place two blocks away, and-”

Peter kissed him.

*

Kissing Tony felt like coming home.

Tony kissed him deeply, but slowly, taking the lead with an ease that thrilled him. Peter wanted to be led. He wanted Tony to tell him to stay put and take it, and he would–he wanted everything Tony was willing to give him. He wanted to have Tony deny him an orgasm, or work him through so many climaxes it hurt. He wanted Tony to fuck him so hard he could finally limp afterwards. He wanted to suck on Tony’s fingers before gagging on his cock, and he wanted to ride him until Tony came twice in a row.

He wanted to tell Tony he loved him.

So, he did.

“I love you, too, Petey,” Tony replied without hesitation, before diving back in for another kiss.

His goatee burnt where it rubbed against his chin, and Peter wanted more, more of him, more claims, everywhere. He made quick work of their clothes, because it occurred to him that if Tony had spent years denying himself, he wasn’t about to dom the hell out of Peter on the first… date. Sparring date. Yes, this was definitely a date, he thought, and felt high on Tony’s smile against his mouth.

“Tell me what you want,” Tony purred, one hand playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

It wasn’t easy to think, especially not with Tony’s warm skin against his own. Tony wasn’t completely hard, but Peter would get him there.

“I want to suck you off,” he said with just a hint of apprehension–at the prospect of being denied.

Tony pulled back and new lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. Concern, regret. Once upon a time, Peter wouldn’t have been able to tell. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But I want this,” Peter said, frowning. “Wait. You think I feel obligated to blow you?”

“Well, no.” Tony began to pull back, the way he averted his eyes a resounding _yes_.

Peter didn’t let him go far. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do,” Tony replied at once, and almost sounded angry.

“Then you have to trust me to know what I want, and what I want is to get my mouth on your cock _yesterday_ … that is, if you want.”

*

Watching the kid drool on his cock was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen. If he was any younger, he would probably be nearing the edge already. As it was, he got to treasure the sight of Peter’s lips stretched wide around him, and savor the wet heat massaging his length, all the while praising the kid like he had years of compliments to make up for.

“You’re so pretty, Petey. Fuck, your mouth, it’s amazing, you’re amazing… perfect, _ah,_ such a good boy, gagging on my cock like this- Come here, I need to kiss you again.”

Getting Peter to lie down was so easy Tony had to fight back a flare of jealousy. It was his own fault for waiting so long.

Thankfully, he was done waiting.

When he had his turn at working Peter with his mouth, the kid proved delightfully vocal in his pleasure. Tony bobbed his head with enthusiasm, gagging a little himself. It’d been a few years since he’d been with a man, okay? Besides, he would get better soon. He planned to suck that gorgeous cock as often as the kid let him, and going by the fact that Peter had already come once down his throat and was still writhing around on the mat, fucking Tony’s mouth with little thrusts of his hips, Tony was pretty sure he would get all the practice he needed.

“P-Please, Tony, I need…”

Tony swallowed one last time around the kid’s cock before pulling back. Peter looked positively debauched, with a few drops of come drying just below his nipples, those soft curls of his a gorgeous mess, his pupils blown and his lips red from how long he’d spent sucking cock already.

Tony wanted to keep him in his bed and never let him go, but first, he had to actually get him to bed.

“You want more?”

“Please, please, please…”

“Shh, I got you.”

Taking his cue from Peter’s earlier reaction to being restrained, but careful not to overwhelm him by accident, Tony reached slowly for his hands, and pinned them above his head.

“Yes,” the kid hissed, hips bucking.

Tony’s cock twitched. “I know you’re flexible, so how about you put those long legs of yours over my shoulders?”

*

Peter knew he could move if he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to, so for now, he pretended he couldn’t. In the position he was in, curled upon himself with both hands in Tony’s grasp and a slick finger caressing his rim, he felt helpless, vulnerable, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. The loving look in Tony’s eyes made him feel so fantastic, actually, that he climaxed again the moment that thick finger breached his hole. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back at Tony’s pleased expression.

“I love how sensitive you are, sweetheart.”

And on those words, Tony parted Peter’s thighs to reach for the come glistening on his belly, gathering it on his thumb. He sucked the digit into his mouth, dark eyes trained on Peter, and Peter… Peter almost came again, except that he’d decided that the next time it happened, Tony’s cock would be in him.

“Please,” he said, and parted his legs as much as he could without unlocking his heels from around Tony’s shoulder blades. “I need you.”

*

Tony didn’t spend too long prepping the kid, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Or wanting to. Peter was impatient and part of Tony could definitely relate.

That part won.

“Petey,” he gasped.

The kid was arching his back despite being already bent in half, obviously trying to get him to move faster. Tony obliged and stared in awe at Peter’s flushed face as he slid in to the hilt, sheathed by velvety warmth. He wanted to move, to give Peter what he wanted, but it felt so wonderful to be there. To fill the kid like that. Peter must have agreed, because he closed his eyes and went completely still with a sigh of contentment, rock hard and sweaty.

“I’ve thought about this every time I’ve had sex with someone else.” Peter confessed, smiling. A second later, his eyes snapped open, and he felt himself grow red in the face. “Er, I realize this might be some kind of faux pas, mentioning others while we, you know, but-”

It was Tony’s turn to kiss the words away.

*

Tony made love to him.

Later on, in the bed Peter had only glimpsed at all those years, Tony fucked him.

“Yes, oh, please, just- _ah_ , yes, like that, _oh_ …”

Peter had started off as a quiet, shy bedmate, but he wasn’t anymore. To be fair, this was Tony. This was the man he’d fantasized about for half his life, the man he’d loved for four years, the man he’d tried to seduce for half that time. And Tony read him like an open book, flipping him around before Peter could summon the brain power to speak up, sucking bruises in his neck and pounding into him because Peter wanted it. Okay, so it hurt a little at the beginning, but pleasure wasn’t far, and soon enough, Peter was high on it. Again.

“Love you, Petey, fuck, love you so much…”

Peter twisted his head around and parted his lips, not quite able to talk, and unwilling to, but Tony just knew what he wanted and let go of his hip to feed him a couple fingers. Peter sucked on them with little finesse, drooling more than anything, but he felt good, so good, and Tony kept telling him how perfect he was, so Peter smiled around Tony’s fingers, lapping at the calluses, twirling his tongue around his knuckles, and came again as Tony grabbed a handful of hair and yanked.

*

Tony didn’t expect to panic.

He’d just given Peter his seventh orgasm, fucking him harder than he’d ever fucked anyone–which was saying something. He’d been worried at first, but the kid had met his thrust with vigor, face buried in the mattress, moaning and begging Tony to give it to him, so Tony had done exactly that. For fuck’s sake, he’d almost hurt his own dick in the process.

It was _so_ worth it.

Brilliant AI that she was, Friday projected the time against the wall before he could ask. Two in the morning. Well, that would explain why he was so hungry.

“Still not hurt anywhere?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I feel amazing,” was Peter's unequivocal answer.

Semen was leaking from his hole and pooling on sheets. Without thinking, Tony pressed two fingers to the tender rim, massaging it briefly before dipping them inside, following the animalistic instincts that urged him to claim. He panicked briefly when Peter tensed, but the kid was quick to dispel his doubts, looking up at him with shiny eyes like Tony had designed the universe, and who was he to dim that light?

“That’s…” Peter propped himself on his elbows and stared as Tony slid his fingers a little deeper, stroking his abused walls. “ _Oh_ \- Okay, that’s so hot.” He threw his head back and panted. “Feels… _ah,_ good.”

Tony’s relief morphed to smugness. “Is it?” he teased.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Totally hot.”

Tony chuckled and twisted his fingers on the way out, wiping them on the sheets, about ready to address his grumbling stomach. If _he_ was hungry, there was no doubt that Peter was starving. “Do you have another orgasm in you, or would you like a break? A bath? Some food? We should totally eat. Tacos are still on the menu, in case you were wondering.”

Peter frowned. It looked so damn cute, when he was half-spaced out from pleasure.

“I’m pretty sure they’re closed in the middle of the night.”

“Sweetheart.” Tony leaned in to kiss him under the right ear, where it made the kid shiver in delight. “No one is closed when they should be open.”

Peter snorted and blew at a strand of wet hair. The lack of self-consciousness had surprised Tony, at first, but it probably shouldn’t have. “Aren’t you tired?”

Tony looked down at his limp cock. His thighs were shaking, for crying out loud, but his body was flooded with endorphins, and he knew he wasn’t done. Not if the kid wanted more. He suspected that ten years down the road (he was getting a little ahead of himself, but who cared) they would still be spending whole nights having sex. The kid had a formidable libido, and Tony’s body may not be quite able to follow long-term, but alterations were always possible. Truth be told, he’d always wanted to dabble in bioengineering. Or, if the kid had a suit kink, he could always adjust the nanites to produce what his body couldn’t, and he wasn’t merely thinking of a boner that lasted more than half an hour.

He cleared his throat. _Everything in due time._ “I’ll make a deal with you. We wait for the shop to open normally, and you get in the bath with me. And I mean ‘bath’, all capitals.”

“It’s big enough to swim, isn’t it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Peter yawned. “Empirical study?”

“A man after my own heart.”

Tony was about to guide Peter there (he half planned to carry him, actually) but the kid pulled him down for a kiss, the kind that involved lots of tongue and plenty of promises, and before long Tony was back to more carnal business, fingering the kid with his come and giving his nipples some attention because the kid made the most delicious noises when he pinched them just so. Every once in a while, he would work at the kid’s gorgeous cock as well, but Peter was content not being directly stimulated all the time, and Tony… Tony lived to serve.

“Could you- If…”

The frustrated note in Peter’s voice immediately got Tony’s attention. “What do you need? Should I stop?”

“No! I mean, please don’t.” Peter bit his lip. “It’s just… I’d really like it if you could… putyourhandbackonmythroat?”

Tony blinked. Oh. It… shouldn’t surprise him. Definitely not. This was, after all, the way it had all started.

However…

He ignored the tightening of his gut. The kid deserved everything, and more.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

It was half a lie, but the kid was too out of it to recognize the tone and call him on it, so Tony positioned his hand on Peter’s throat, caressing the white, unmarred skin with reverence. He’d been asked for this. He knew, rationally, that he wasn’t going to hurt Peter. For fuck’s sake, the strength he planned to use wouldn’t endanger a regular human being. He had experience with breathplay–the knowledge, and the practice, to do it safely. To give pleasure. To make it feel good. And he could see it, too: how Peter’s eyes would glaze over, how his walls would tighten around his cock as he squeezed his windpipe a little more, how his heartbeat would speed up against his fingers...

... his breathing would grow ragged, faint…

… how the light in his eyes would dim until…

“Hey.”

He looked at Peter, but he wasn’t seeing this Peter–he was back on Titan, holding the kid as he turned to dust in his arms. His throat locked up. He felt hands on his face, soothing, and he tried to focus on what was real. The room. He was in his bedroom. Peter was here, with him. Alive. Peter was touching him. And he looked at him with concern, and love. That’s right: Peter loved him.

And Tony loved him, so, so much, and what if he lost him because he couldn’t give him what he needed? With time, he could probably work around the associated trauma, but how much time did he have to get his shit together? Peter was very young–it was only right that he felt like exploring in all aspects of his life. The last thing Tony wanted was to limit him. If…

“Hey, Tony, it’s okay. _Tony_.”

Tony blinked, confused and relieved (mostly relieved) when Peter kissed one cheek, then the other, arms warm around his shoulders. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I don’t need this. Just being here, holding you…” He wound his arms around Tony’s back and slowly, slowly, pulled him to his chest. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

The contented sigh, and the lovely sound Peter made as Tony held him in turn, convinced Tony that maybe, just maybe, he was panicking for no good reason. For a while, he breathed in Peter’s scent, did just that and nothing else, and Peter, patient, understanding, brilliant, _perfect,_ gave him time to ground himself. Tony sighed heavily as the last of the tension left him. God, he was such an idiot. 

“... I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?” he asked for good measure.

Pulling back slightly, Peter pressed both hands on his chest, one over his heart, and the other across the housing unit. “If you think a hard limit is going to send me running, then yes, you are. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tony fell in love all over again.

“That’s good,” he choked out. He lifted Peter’s hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles. Peter giggled. The happy sound flooded him with warmth–chased away the lingering cold of doubts. “That’s good,” he repeated, tone firm. “Because I don’t want you to go anywhere. Except the bathroom.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Peter’s palm. “Although, I’m not sure my legs are going to let me leave that bed anytime soon.”

“How about I carry you to our bath, then?”

For the first time in his life, Tony was carried bridal-style to his own bathroom.

It wouldn’t be the last time.

(And in seven months and three days, he would be dressed to the nines for the event, and so would Peter.)


End file.
